Golden sweet dew poured from the sky, pattering down upon every corner of the Primordial World.
Withered spiritual herbs instantly shot up, growing joint by joint.
Clear spiritual springs welled up anew in dried-out rivers.
The loose immortals secluded in their caves breathed in the dense ultimate dao spiritual energy in the air, their magical power soaring at a breathtaking pace.
Yet not a single mighty cultivator in the entire Primordial World felt any joy.
An indescribable sense of oppression weighed heavily upon every heart.
He was dead.
The Ancestor of Ten Thousand Buddhas, who had swept through all worlds more than a thousand eras ago, had died just like that before Ghost Gate Pass in the Netherworld.
Had an ordinary Heavenly Dao Saint fallen, they might have merely sighed over the cruelty of the great calamity.
After all, Saints entrusted themselves to the Heavenly Dao. As long as it endured, they would eventually crawl back out of the heavenly dao origin.
But Chaos Ancient Buddha was different.
He was a true sovereign who had survived the Great Destruction of an era and lived from over a thousand eras ago to the present.
His flesh, his soul, his life-bound world, and even the Heavenly Dao Dharma Form he had summoned in a desperate struggle had all been sliced into fragments that filled the sky, stroke after stroke, by the Grass Sword in Qin Mu's hand.
This was death and the extinction of his Dao in the truest sense.
Not even a speck remained.
In the Netherworld Underworld, before Pingxin Hall.
Xi He lowered her head to look at the green Grass Sword in Qin Mu's hand, her chest still heaving.
"Husband, now that this old bald donkey is dead, those Buddhist followers in the Far West will probably go mad."